


We should get a princess castle

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Princesses and castles, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 11:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13053012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “We should get a princess castle.”





	We should get a princess castle

**Author's Note:**

> None of these characters belong to me.  
> All belong to George R. R. Martin.  
> Feedback is welcomed.

“I don’t think anyone is home.”

The house before them looked empty. No lights, no children running out screaming for their aunt and uncle, and no Arya or Gendry trying to herd them inside and out of the falling rain. 

Gathering at the Water’s residence for a Sunday barbecue had become habit ever since the birth of Arya and Gendry’s children, all black-haired girls. One, luckily inherited Gendry’s calm and thoughtful nature. The next two girls on the other hand, were all Arya. Sansa felt Gendry would go insane one day. 

“Arya said they were going to be home.” 

Looking from her phone and to Sandor, Sansa nodded towards the house. “Go knock.”

Disbelief colored her husband’s face. “It’s raining.” 

“Yes.”

Sandor sighed, making no move to open the door and face the torrent of water. “Sansa, it’s pouring out there and there is no one home.” Inching his hand across the console, his fingers grazed the fabric of her sweater, and moved in slow circle. “Why don’t we go home? Come back tomorrow or whenever this damned rain stops.”

The movement of his fingers and gruffness of his voice almost made her agree with him. Almost.

Grabbing his hand, she brought it up to her lips. Grazing his fingers on the skin of her mouth, she softly gave one a bite. The movement elicited a groan from Sandor. 

“How about you go and knock?” She whispered. 

“Temptress.”

With a huff of annoyance and disappointment, Sandor opened the door to the truck and gave Sansa once last pleading looking before jumping out and making a run for the door. 

The windshield wipers on the car gave her a clear view of Sandor as he slammed a fist against the door, supposedly knocking. Rolling her eyes and smiling at his antics, Sansa waited for him to return and turned her attention to the vibrating phone.

_Went to the store. Be there soon. Bad weather._

_At your house already. Wheres your house key?_

_Second pot._

Rolling down her window, Sansa attempted to tell her husband of the location of the key. “In the pot. The pot, Sandor.”

It was either the distance or the rain, but Sandor shook his head and raised his hands in defeat. He was saying something, the movement of his mouth told her that much, but Sansa didn’t understand. Instead she raised the hood of her jacket, grabbed the bottle of wine from the backseat that was meant to be a gift, and opened her door. 

Sandor was waiting for her with a grimace. “There’s no pot.” 

Pointing to the corner of the small porch were the pots usually rested, Sansa saw nothing. Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she didn’t know if to laugh at the sight while standing on the small porch with the rain splattering them or waiting until they were safe and warm in the truck. 

Sandor made the decision for her. Taking her hand in his and doing his best to shield her from the rain, he lead them to the passenger door of the truck and yanked on the door handle. 

“Christ, Sansa. Did you lock the doors?” 

“Of course not.” Yet when she tugged on the handle, the door refused to open. She continued yanking on the door, wishing it to open, as Sandor ran to drivers side of the door and returned defeated.

“It’s locked.” 

The jacket Sandor wore did nothing to keep him dry. Without a hood, the water streamed down his face and soaked the black shirt he was wearing. Tendrils that escaped from the bun she had made for hun now lung to his forehead and neck.

“What now?” 

The Water’s residence had no back porch. Arya was forever pressing Gendry into building a pergola, for the aesthetic she said, and Gendry had yet to yet to build it. Not that a pergola would had provided much shelter, but it was better than standing exposed in the rain.

A smile made its way across Sansa’s face as she gripped Sandor’s bicep and started to lead him to the backyard. “C’mon. Lets go the backyard. This rain isn’t going to stop now and you’re bound to get sick out here.”

It was an awkward run through soaked grass and puddles of mud. The wedges Sansa was wearing sunk into the mud and it was only because of Sandor pulling her along that she didn’t get a food stuck. 

It felt so childish running out in the rain, she thought and couldn’t help the laugh that escaped from her mouth. Looking up at Sandor, she saw his own mouth turn up slightly and felt the shaking of his chest as he laughed with her.

Their footsteps only faltered when they reached the pink and white building sitting in the middle of the backyard. 

The interior of the princess castle was spacious enough for the two of them. The tea set that had been scattered on the floor now sat outside in the rain collecting water. 

Snuggling closer to his side, Sansa ran her hand over chest and under the jacket he was wearing, signaling for him to take it off. The cotton was soaked through and clinging to him like a second skin. It was early July but she was not going to let him get sick because of a wet shirt.

With the jacket and shirt gone, she laid her head on his chest and sighed. His skin was cold and calm but it was a matter of staying close to him and then he would get warm. “We should get a princess castle.”

With an arm wrapped around her waist, he placed a light kiss on the top of her head. “And why’s that?”

Taking the wine bottle from the ground and placing it between his legs, Sandor tore the cork with a quick tug. 

Sansa shrugged. “It would look nice in the backyard, don’t you think? A swing set, a sand box, maybe a trampoline.”

There was a pause. Removing his hand from the neck of the bottle, he placed instead on Sansa’s cheek, thumb skimming the skin. A smile played on his lips. “Something you want to tell me?” Brushing his lips against hers, he smiled. "A princess castle, eh?"

"We can always paint it black if we have a boy."


End file.
